Opinion

This was like no Aussie shed I’d seen before

“Hey, I like the look of your man-shed,” I said to a man as I looked at his shed. He seemed slightly irked, he shook his head, he said, “No no Danny, we don’t use that kind of offensive terminology any more. This is modern Australia and we refer to sheds using gender-neutral third-person pronouns to ensure that all Australians feel included, irrespective of identity, culture, or ethno-racial heritage! This is my … They/Them/Their Shed!”

Then he flung open the reclaimed, refurbished, restored antique shed door and led me inside to have a look.

This shed was immaculate and organised and tasteful.Credit:Michele Mossop

Stepping into the They/Them/Their Shed was a shock: this was like no Aussie shed I’d seen before. Where was the broken Flymo mower that you tripped over in the doorway? NOT THERE! Where was the huge piece of timber leaning against a wall with a rusty nail poking out at eyeball height? MYSTERIOUSLY ABSENT! Where was the classic Aussie toolbox with nothing inside but two dead batteries and an empty tin of shoe polish? NOWHERE TO BE SEEN!!!

No, this shed was immaculate and organised and tasteful. Even the old paint cans were arranged on shelves in designer groupings of three, with labels facing out and lids banged on properly. Lids actually banged on. This was nuts.

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The man sat me down on a vintage tea chest (Ceylonese oolong), popped down a cushion so I didn’t get splinters, and began his lecture.

“You see, Danny … once a shed was a place just for men. A damp, dark pit of despair that reeked of WD-40 because men believed WD-40 could fix everything, including their damaged psyches. But now … a They/Them/Their Shed is a light-filled hub of inspiration where everyone can work, create or just hang out! Bagel?” He offered me a bagel from the shed bagel-basket, and a selection of cheeses from the shed charcuterie-fridge. A decent selection, too. Impressive.

While I ate, he continued: “Danny, once a shed was a place where men did basic repairs – mostly putting washers onto things and taking washers off of other things. But in a They/Them/Their Shed, people can do all kinds of activities! Over there, the woodturning lathe! In the corner, a cobbling anvil! And up on the mezzanine, The Gift-Wrapping Station!”

I almost choked on my ashed-walnut goat cheese: “Gift-wrapping? In a shed?” He said, “Oh yes! Hey, let me show you my Japanese corrugated tissue-wrap?” I said, “Maybe later.” He said, “Definitely later!”

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The man taught me everything about They/Them/Their Sheds. How you don’t just listen to the footy in there – you can also listen to podcasts about carving decorative wooden finials using carbide cutters, all 12 seasons. How you don’t do crude humour in there – you can discuss butt-chisels and gas-cocks with total seriousness, and could I please stop snickering. How you never leave tools lying around – you always return them to their storage boxes, and keep their manuals inside plastic protector sleeves. I said, “You keep ... the manuals?” He said, “Of course! And all receipts and warranty paperwork.” I felt dizzy: “I need air ... some air …”

As we stepped out of the They/Them/Their Shed, he said, “Well, I hope you enjoyed the tour, and remember our motto! The most useful tool of all is a smile!” I said, “Yeah, I think I’m starting to get it! And the most powerful adhesive of all … is the bond of human inclusiveness!” And he said, “Well, I would’ve said a two-part epoxy resin compound, but yeah, whatever."

Danny Katz is a columnist for The Age and The Sydney Morning Herald. He writes the Modern Guru column in the Good Weekend magazine. He is also the author of the books Spit the Dummy, Dork Geek Jew and the Little Lunch series for kids.